


Simply Following Orders

by Dietcokediamond



Series: Following Orders [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bottom Seteth (Fire Emblem), Crack Treated Seriously, Desperation, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Implied Sexual Content, Omorashi, Piss, Post-Time Skip, Protective Seteth (Fire Emblem), Self-Indulgent, Setleth, Sitcom, This Is STUPID, there is objectively not enough setleth omorashi in the world, they're so cute tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24689893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dietcokediamond/pseuds/Dietcokediamond
Summary: Seteth can't pee in front of his wife. Nonsense ensues.This is self-indulgent garbage plz be aware of tags, and also the idea is from a 90s sitcom. Don't mind me.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Seteth
Series: Following Orders [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829074
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	Simply Following Orders

(Note: Byleth and Seteth are in love, post-Blue Lions route, but as the war is still technically going on, they are not open with their relationship yet.)  
\---------------------

“So we’re clear on the plan, then?” Dorothea prodded, reveling at being the center of her classmates’ attention; it was almost as thrilling as being on stage.

  
“Sure,” Claude shrugged, “Me and Raphael take out the guards, Dorothea seduces the ol’ son of a bitch, and Teach and Seteth strike at the perfect moment.”

  
“Right,” Dorothea nodded. “Lord Garth is an incredibly bitter man, but he’s always had a soft spot for the fairer sex, especially dancers such as myself. The only thing is,” she said, turning to Byleth, “the two of you will have to stay put for as long as it takes for me to liquor him up and lead him into the office. There’s a hidden passage that will allow you to stay hidden until it’s time to attack.”

“Let’s nail this sucker!” Raphael shouted, with an enthusiastic jab into the air. “He can’t just siege Castle Esla and get away with it.”

“Let’s keep our wits about us,” Seteth warned, “We can’t afford any distractions.”

  
~~~

Now, despite his own words, Seteth found himself to be rather distracted.

  
Upon their arrival to Castle Esla, he and Byleth were able to find their way through the secret passage with relative ease; it was only now, in the dark, cobwebbed silence of the old office, that Seteth began to wish they could go ahead and get on with it already.

  
It's not that this was going to be a particularly _difficult_ battle per se; after all, between the Sword of the Creator and Seteth’s axe, the drunk old fool would be wildly outmatched, and the handful of goons Lord Garth managed to convince to follow him would be taken out by Raphael and Claude’s battalions easily enough. But Seteth couldn't help but feel unnerved at the idea of fighting alone with Byleth. It was one thing to fight alongside her in a group, where she had plenty of protection, but if something were to happen to her and he was somehow unable to help... No. He couldn't even allow himself to think of it.

So, he had been up before the sun, gathering supplies, refilling water flasks, meticulously inspecting every inch of Byleth's armor as she slept soundly in their tent - wearing nothing but a thin white linen shirt, damn him, which had certainly done nothing to ease his nerves.

Worse, Seteth had been so focused on making sure everyone else was prepared, he had barely had time to prepare himself. The moment the first soldier woke up, his duties had begun, and Seteth was focused only on helping Byleth lead their troops through their journey.

And so, the two of them had snuck through the musky, cavernous tunnels beneath the castle, until finally they came into the cobweb-shrouded office, the smell of forgotten books stale and thick in the air. They would need to pay special attention to not disturbing any of the thick dust, or any hope of catching Garth off-guard would be gone. And so they waited, in silence, like this. And they waited. And they waited.

One moment, the thought had never even crossed his mind; and in an instant, he noticed it. And suddenly it was all he could think about.  
  
…No. Goddess, _no._

He had forgotten, in all the commotion, to relieve his bladder before their arrival at the castle. He was usually very careful to sneak away during opportune times, where no one could possibly stumble upon him, to take care of such unfortunate necessities discreetly. But this morning, he hadn’t done so since-- well, since he first woke up, before… the sun. _Oh, goddess_ , how could he have been so _stupid?_

Well, at least the need wasn’t terrible.

 _Yet,_ he refused to think.

“You know,” Byleth said quietly, tilting her head to the side, her eyes transfixed on a rather dusty old couch. “If it weren’t for our current obligations, I might just be tempted to have my way with you on that couch. It might squeak a bit, but it looks comfortable enough.”

  
Heat rushed to Seteth’s cheeks. “Shh, please darling, what if someone were to overhear you?”  
  


“There’s no one around,” Byleth said with a huff. “Just trying to keep myself entertained, is all.”

  
Seteth gave her a soft smile, but his brow creased with worry. He was all too aware of his now quite uncomfortable bladder, and it was hardly as if he could excuse himself…

  
A short while passed, and they remained in silence, ears straining for any approaching footsteps. None came. Seteth began to slowly shift his weight from leg to leg, hoping to ease his need. Lost in his thoughts, he reached a hand down to his groin and adjusted himself, relieving a bit of the tension.

  
“Hmmm, it seems my ideas about the couch have made you excited,” Byleth purred, mistaking his movement for a sign of arousal.

  
"What?" he said, his gaze snapping back to hers. "N-no, it's not that..."

"What, then?"

"It... it's nothing, my love, please don't concern yourself with it."

Byleth's smile faded. "Seteth," she stated his name solemnly. "I can't have you risking our lives by trying to take Lord Garth down while you're ill. If we need to abandon the plan-"

  
"No, professor!" Seteth willed his voice to remain calm, but the weight in his bladder, in tandem with the pressure of their mission and his beloved's worried expression, were fraying his nerves. He cleared his throat, regaining some composure. "I'm perfectly fine, I just-"

  
Before he could finish his thought, his hand flew to his groin instinctively as another wave of desperation came over him. Byleth blinked, the smile slowly returning as she realized what was bothering him.

  
" _That's_ all? You've just got to piss?" She let out a small, bemused chuckle.

  
Seteth felt his entire face flush in shame; to admit something so base, so _crude_ to her was unthinkable.

  
As a holy man in a position of power, it was imperative that he be a pillar of propriety and lead by example - that his bodily functions, though never completely avoidable, never be brought to anyone's attention, least of all the woman he loved so dearly, the progenitor god herself...

He had lived through dozens of centuries, and dammit, there were some things a gentleman simply _did not_ discuss in the presence of a lady. This was most certainly one of them, and that’s all there was to it.  
  
  
He'd always made it a point to remain as discreet as possible when nature inevitably called, even going so far as to walk from their bedroom to his office late at night to use the chamberpot there, lest Byleth wake up and catch him mid-stream.  
  


Seteth closed his eyes and let out a defeated sigh. There was no point in denying it now.  
  


"...Yes. Please," he begged, his voice hardly more than a whisper, "speak of it no more."  
  


Byleth pressed her ear against the door. "Silent as the grave out there, we've got some time yet" she concluded. "That old clay pot over there should serve your purposes nicely."

  
"Y-You can't be serious!" Seteth hissed, scandalized.

  
"Why not?" Byleth looked genuinely confused. "It might not be as refined as the facilities at home, but it'll do in a pinch."

  
Seteth's blush deepened, and the anxious shifting of his weight from foot to foot quickened. Truly, all this talking was having a very adverse effect on his deteriorating situation.

  
"I..." He lowered his eyes, unable to meet her gaze. "I could never... in front of you..."

  
Byleth raised her brow in disbelief. Try as she might, she couldn't keep the incredulous smile from growing across her cheeks. "Oh, come now, you can't be serious."

  
The things that Seteth fretted over! In her mercenary days, she was quite used to men openly relieving themselves mere feet away from her, usually without even breaking their raucous conversation.

  
Despite their current mission, she was truly bewildered at her lover's concern. It was not as if they were a couple of shy, inexperienced youngsters. They had united a kingdom together, had placed their lives in the other's hands on the battlefield, had explored every inch of each other's bodies and screamed each other's names. Surely a little piss was inconsequential by comparison?

Well, judging by his aghast expression and bright-red cheeks, Seteth didn't think so.

  
"Darling, I have seen that cock of yours many a time, I very much doubt seeing a little water coming out of it would be so drastically different."

  
Seteth coughed, his throat suddenly feeling incredibly dry at her blunt verbiage. "There is a _very_ big difference between what I do to express my love, and..." he trailed off. "I beg of you, professor, let's just drop the subject."

  
The humor disappeared from Byleth's face. "We could be here for hours yet, Seteth. Dorothea has likely not even been able to speak candidly with Lord Garth yet. Are you prepared to hold it all that time?"

  
Seteth's breath caught in his throat. _No, he most certainly was not_. The need was now impossible to ignore; perhaps he could suffer through another hour, but any longer than that...

  
In spite of himself, he found his eyes trailing over to the dusty clay pot she had mentioned, and his bladder ached. _It_ would _be a very quick fix_... he thought to himself. Perhaps Byleth would even do him the courtesy of looking away...

  
But then, she would still _hear_ him filling the damned thing up, and the thought of that was almost worse.

  
No. He refused to disgrace himself further in front of Byleth. Desperately trying to regain some semblance of pride, he tersely responded "I am perfectly capable of controlling myself, Byleth."

Byleth smirked. "Have it your way, then.

  
~~~

Hardly any time at all had passed before Seteth was beginning to panic. He cursed himself for not taking care of his need earlier, for not making his predicament less obvious, for allowing Byleth to see him in such an indisposed state.

  
“How…” His voice betrayed him by cracking halfway through his word, and he flushed as Byleth met his gaze, a sly, knowing smile teasing the corners of her mouth. He cleared his throat. “How much longer do you think it will take to lead Lord Garth here?”

  
“Hard to say,” Byleth replied, her voice never reaching higher than a low whisper. “I imagine it will be well past dark by the time we give the bastard what-for.”

Seteth’s heart throbbed with affection for the woman before him. The people of Fodlan so clearly meant the world to her, and to see her come to their aid with such passion and immediacy was simply a testament to how the Goddess had blessed them with Byleth’s presence. _Oh, Sothis,_ how he loved her.

  
Though he had tried to remain focused on their task at hand, his mind began to wander back to Byleth’s earlier suggestion regarding the old couch… Perhaps after Lord Garth had been disposed of, he could show her _exactly_ how enticing he’d found her offer. A twinge of pain in his bladder brought him back to reality.

But, _oh, Sothis,_ he had to urinate. With a meager groan, his hands instinctively found themselves cupping his manhood, squeezing the tip in an effort to relieve some of the pressure – until he noticed Byleth’s eyes, focused directly on the area in question. His hands darted away from his groin as though they had been burned.

  
“Have I ever told you about the geysers on the Rhodos Coast?” Byleth offered, her voice suspiciously chipper and innocent.

  
“I… don’t believe you have, no.” His voice wavered just a bit as he absentmindedly began bouncing his leg, anything to distract him from the ache.

  
“They’re incredible. The mercenaries and I used to spend our afternoons there, when we found ourselves near western Faerghus.” She seemed to drift away for a moment, swept into the memory, before casting him a mischievous side-glance. “The amount of water is astonishing. The pressure building beneath the earth’s surface, steam rising as the flood reaches the breaking point.”

  
The color drained from Seteth’s face, and Byleth had to resist the urge to grin. “You’ve never seen so much water – it shoots into the sky, free at last after waiting for _so long_ , and douses the world beneath it, little rivers flowing freely down the craggy terrain.”

  
Ah, how cruel she was. Seteth’s bladder throbbed with every beat of his heart, the imagery of her words almost too much to bear. He knew she was only teasing him, and under different circumstances he might have found her candor amusing, but his bulging bladder refused to allow him any good humor.

  
“P…Please…” Seteth choked out, resignedly grabbing his cock again; although he was loathe to do so, he could feel his muscles weakening, and the idea of actually _wetting his pants_ in front of her was worse than death itself. “N-no more. Talk about something else… _Anything_ else…”

  
Byleth had had enough. “Seteth. This is ridiculous. You’re harming yourself, and for no good reason. What would you do if our positions were reversed?”

  
Seteth blinked, trying his damnedest to focus on her words, his fingers squeezing himself nearly to the point of pain. “What?”

  
“If I was bursting for a piss, and there was a perfectly good receptacle within reach, wouldn’t you hate to see me suffering?”

  
“Yes! But— _agh!_ ” Try as he might, Seteth was losing his internal battle, as a tiny spurt escaped his tortured cock and seeped into his smallclothes. “I can’t…”

  
“As your Archbishop, I am _ordering_ you to piss into that jar over there. Now.”

  
Seteth snapped his head up to face her, realization dawning on his features. "B-Byleth..."

  
As her lover, he could never let her witness him doing something so filthy, so unfitting for a woman of her beauty, of her power.

  
But as _her advisor_ , he was obliged to do anything and everything she asked of him. He would be simply following orders…

  
Well, there wasn’t another moment to lose. He had no choice either way; either Byleth would make the decision for him, or his body would. Moving as swiftly as his hunched-over posture would allow, he hobbled over to the large pot and positioned himself in front of it. “…As you wish, my lady,” he said, wrestling the belts of his robes out of his way in a frenzy and revealing his leaking penis.

  
For a split second, nothing happened, and Seteth begged for the Goddess to strike him dead then and there. Then, a spurt escaped, and he gasped, his face burning in a deep blush. Then, another spurt, a bit longer this time, and Seteth let out a soft whimper as he begged his aching muscles to release their hold. Finally, he began to piss fully, the forceful stream filling the pot with a hollow-sounding hum.

  
The relief was indescribable. “A…..Aaahhhh…” Seteth exhaled, his eyes fluttering shut in euphoria. He allowed his head to fall back, and Byleth had to stifle a giggle as his shoulders visibly slumped, the effort of holding so much in finally gone from him.

  
His stream was still going; nearly a minute had passed by this point, and it didn’t seem to be slowing at all. Byleth tried not to look, but couldn’t help but be astonished. _Poor Seteth_ , she thought to herself _, he must have truly been at his limit_. She vaguely wondered if the pot would be big enough, and was about to voice her concern when Seteth interrupted her thoughts.

“I’m so very sorry for putting you into this position, professor." He tried to maintain a steady voice over the growing sound of the filling pot." A man of my years should be well able to control such-”

  
“Shush,” Byleth interrupted insistently. “Everyone has to piss, Seteth. I can understand being discreet around the students, around the church members, but in front of me?” There seemed to be a bit of genuine hurt in her eyes, and Seteth felt a pang of guilt.

  
“I must admit,” Seteth conceded, “it is not nearly as mortifying as I had thought it would be, but… to have you witness such a… _human_ weakness in me...”

  
“If I had known you were so uptight about it, I would’ve made you do this a long time ago. I can’t have my advisor going around ready to explode all day.”

  
For the first time since this nightmare began, Seteth let out a small laugh. “You truly are a cruel woman, my love…” he chided, his stream finally slowing to a dribble. “The talk of the geysers…”

  
Byleth grinned, obviously pleased with herself. “Thank you, I’m rather proud of that one.”

  
“It nearly did me in.” He let out a contented sigh as he finally finished, a shiver running up his spine at his blissful emptiness. He gave a quick shake and then tucked himself back into his breeches. The pot was almost comically full now. Seteth felt yet another blush rise on his face, but said nothing as he turned back to Byleth.

  
“…Thank you,” he said finally, his eyes locking with hers.

  
“For?”

  
“For giving me such… direct orders,” he smiled.

  
“You’ll find I can be incredibly persuasive,” she answered, her bright green eyes flashing him a lecherous look that took his breath away. He felt his sore manhood begin to stir a bit, and his body began to naturally pull towards her.

  
He jumped nearly a foot in the air as the heavy wooden door of the office creaked open, and Dorothea’s flirtatious voice could be heard dotingly leading the no-doubt drunk Lord Garth inside.

 _Shit_. In all their excitement, they had lost their advantaged position beside the door frame. Their weapons were now on the opposite side of the room, and there was no way of retrieving them without giving away their position.

  
“Now!” Dorothea cried as the oafish man began bumbling towards her.

  
Seeing no other option, Byleth grabbed the jar Seteth had used and hoisted it above her head, and with a shuddering heave, brought it down upon the boorish man’s head; he fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, unconscious, as a flood of tepid piss and shattered clay fragments covered his unmoving form.

  
“…What… what the hell was that?!” Dorothea cried, utterly confused at what had just transpired. “I’ve never questioned your methods before, Professor, but I have to say, choosing a pot over the Sword of the Creator is a bold move!”

  
Seteth’s face was as red as she’d ever seen it, and Byleth couldn’t help guffawing. “Well, all things considered, we were incredibly lucky that pot was so heavy!” Seteth looked as though he wanted to sink into the floor and disappear; it was infuriatingly cute.

  
“We’ve cleared out the B-team,” Claude said, arriving with Raphael. “We heard a crash --- woah, what happened in here?”

  
Raphael pumped his fists in the air triumphantly. “Whatever happened, looks like the old man’s knocked out cold. Grab his feet. Ugh… he’s all wet. Careful about the sharp pieces…”

  
The two of them hoisted the man up, no doubt taking him to the dungeon where he would be bound until they returned to Garreg Mach.

  
“Well, uh… no matter, I suppose! We’ve done it.” Dorothea’s eyes sparkled as she beamed at her professor. “Thank you so much, Professor. I will never forget this. And you too, Seteth.” She paused, pretending not to notice the sweet, silent glance that Seteth and the professor exchanged. “Will the two of you… be joining the rest of us in celebration of our victory?”

  
“As tempting as that is, I’m afraid we will have to join you all a bit later. We’ve got a prior commitment to see to…” Byleth replied, her eyes drifting to the infamous couch.

  
“…Y-Yes, I think it best if we see to that first,” Seteth agreed. “We would be happy to celebrate later.”

  
Dorothea gave the professor a knowing look and grinned. “Very well, then. I’ll leave you to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> -Full House closing credits-
> 
> I'm sorry.
> 
> I commissioned WattStaff to write another omo-related/first-time Setleth fluff, so watch out for that, it won't be as dumb lmao bye


End file.
